#falling back in love
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Misty Memories Cold
When you wake in Fíli’s bed with no recollection of anything after a disaster in Mirkwood, he’s ready to risk anything, even his uncle’s wrath, to bring back what you had together.
Cold.
You’re cold. It’s dark. You’re falling. Someone reaches for you. Too late.
The water folds in around you. It floods your nose. It floods your ears. Your limbs don’t work. You can’t swim.
Muffled shouts. You open your mouth to cry back. It fills with water.
Choking.
Drowning.
Drowning.
Drowning drowning drowning dr–
You wake with a jolt, sitting up in bed.
Bed?
You pat the sheets around you. Yes, you’re definitely in a bed, not curled up on the leaf litter in Mirkwood.
“I guess it really was a dream,” you whisper, shoulders slumping. But as you run your fingers across the hem of the blanket, you frown. It doesn’t feel like the old quilt on your bed. It’s thicker, softer.
Something is wrong.
You look around the room as your eyes begin to adjust. There’s a fireplace across the room, the dying embers casting just enough light to let you make out the vague shapes of furniture in the darkness. The walls and floor are stone, adorned with plush rugs. The wind rattles the shutters outside the window, hidden behind thick curtains.
This is not your bedroom… and you are not alone. A dark figure stirs next to you beneath the covers. You scramble out of bed but find the floor farther away than expected. You land hard on your side. “Ow!”
You slap your hand over your mouth, but it’s too late. The figure sits up with a groan, rubbing at its face and leaning to peer over the edge of the bed at you. There’s no mistaking that mustache, those braids.
“Fíli? What… where are we?” And why are we in bed together?
Fíli blinks a few times to clear the sleep from his eyes. “What do you mean?” he asks hoarsely, his voice rough. He rolls out of bed and kneels in front of you. “We’re home. In Erebor? You know, the mountain? Big pile of rocks and snow? It’s rather hard to miss.” He raises an eyebrow, trying to coax a smile from you.
Instead, you scoot backwards, putting space between you and the prince as you process his words. “But we were just in Mirkwood,” you protest. “How did we get here?”
Fíli’s confusion turns to concern. “Y/N, that was a year ago.” He shifts closer and brushes a thumb over your cheek. “Are you feeling alright?”
You stiffen against his touch, heart in your throat. Ever the gentleman, he’s never touched you without permission before. But something about the way his palm cups your face feels familiar. “I don’t know,” you whisper, shaking your head. “All I remember is falling into the stream.”
“You don’t remember the elves? Fighting for the mountain? All the time we spent together?” He uncovers a long braid in your hair. “Our wedding?”
“Wedding?!” It’s true, you’ve harbored feelings for Fíli since the two of you met in Bag End. You’d admired him in the book and movies, and to see him for real… it did something to you. But you never thought he would return your affections—how could he? You’re a plain, young woman from another world, and he’s a handsome prince, heir to the throne.
Fíli searches your face, expression unreadable. Finally, he stands, offering you his hand. “Come on.”
You take it hesitantly. His fingers lace through yours, and he helps you to your feet. Strangely, you find that instead of being taller than the dwarf, you’re just level with his chin. But before you can comment on this, Fíli pulls you out the door and down a narrow hallway.
He leads you to a large sitting room, taking you to the sofa next to yet another fireplace. “Wait here,” he orders softly. “I’ll fetch Thorin.”
“Thorin’s alive?” you breathe. “What about Kíli?”
“Kíli would like to know what the pair of you are doing up and chattering in the middle of the night,” replies a voice from behind you. The youngest Durin leans against the wall with his arms crossed, hair still tousled from sleep.
You tip back your head and close your eyes. “They did it,” you sigh in relief. “Oh, thank God, they did it.”
Kíli raises an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”
Fíli pinches the bridge of his nose. “Let me get Thorin first. I would rather not explain this twice.”
“Again.” Thorin paces in front of the fire.
You rub your forehead. “I told you, that’s it,” you groan. “I fell in the water and woke up here.”
Kíli shakes his head. “It makes no sense.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
Thorin flashes you a warning look.
“It was no ordinary stream,” Fíli points out. He sits with you on the couch, his hand resting on top of yours. Every once in a while, he gives it a reassuring squeeze. “It had some sort of foul magic. She wouldn’t wake for days.”
“If it’s magic that we’re dealing with,” you glance at Thorin warily before continuing, “it might be a good idea to talk with the elves.”
“Absolutely not,” Thorin snaps. His lip curls in disgust. “I refuse to invite them to interfere in our private matters.”
Kíli’s eyes brighten. “What about Gandalf, then? Where would we find him?”
They all look to you. You close your eyes, teasing and tugging at the cobwebs that cloud the part of your mind where your Middle Earth knowledge is stored. “He’s… there’s no guarantee we even could find him. Gandalf doesn’t have a home, exactly. He wanders. They don’t call him the Grey Pilgrim for nothing.”
“So we don’t know where Gandalf is,” Fíli starts slowly, “but we do know where the elves are.”
“And Gandalf wasn’t in Mirkwood with us,” you add. “There’s no guarantee he even knows about the enchanted stream—but Thranduil definitely would.”
Thorin crosses his arms. “Out of the question.”
“Did you not make peace with Mirkwood?”
“Peace does not mean friendship,” Thorin retorts. His voice, raised in frustration, echoes off of the polished stone walls. Down another hallway, you hear a door slam. Thorin groans at the sound of approaching footsteps.
“And just what in Mahal’s name is everyone shouting about at this hour of night?”
A new dwarf steps into the firelight. In the dim light, she almost looks like a copy of Thorin. But as she approaches, you can see her features are softer, her eyes rounder, her beard thinner. And there’s no mistaking the Durin glare that she levels at Thorin, her blue eyes just as piercing as they are tired.
You glance at Fíli with uncertainty. He squeezes your hand and leans close to murmur in your ear. “It’s just Amad. Mother,” he translates when you don’t seem to understand.
Dís. You nod quickly.
Thorin looks at you, then back to his sister, standing with arms crossed and an eyebrow raised expectantly. As they exchange words in their rough native tongue, Dís’s expression of irritation turns to one of soft, motherly concern. She comes closer to you and gently brushes away a few strands of unruly hair from your face. “You must be tired, natha.”
“Daughter,” Fíli whispers.
“A bit,” you reply quietly, finding yourself suddenly shy with the full attention of a mother focused on you.
“Poor dove,” Dís tuts. She straightens up and pats you on the shoulder. “Fíli, take your lass back to bed. We will speak in the morning.” Thorin looks like he means to protest, but Dís silences him with an icy glare. Planting a kiss on the top of your head, she pushes Kíli and Thorin back down their opposite hallways. Fíli pats your hand and follows her quickly, his words in Khuzdûl fading as he gets further away.
Finally alone, you let out a long sigh. For the first time, you get the chance to look yourself over, to see what has changed. Your hair is longer, brushing the small of your back. When you run your fingers through it, you find braids styled to match Fíli’s. A dwarven marriage custom, perhaps? There’s a thin, gold band on your finger, too, lined with tiny sapphires that sparkle in the firelight. A little smile tugs at the corner of your mouth; at least you kept some piece of your own marriage customs.
And while Fíli has been bare-chested this whole time, you’re wearing a dark green shirt, no doubt one that used to be his. It’s long enough on you to serve as a nightgown. A blush rises on your face when you realize the deep v-neck exposes the dip between your breasts—and has been exposing it to everyone else this whole time.
“Amrâlimê?” Fíli’s voice from the hallway is soft. He pokes his head into the sitting room. “Aren’t you going to come to bed?”
You gnaw on your bottom lip, suddenly very interested in the fireplace. In anything that isn’t Fíli’s too-kind face. “Do you want me to?” you ask hesitantly.
It’s silent for a few seconds. Fíli sighs heavily and comes to kneel before you, taking your hands in his. “Y/N, you are my wife. Of course I want you to come to bed. It is our bed.” His eyes search yours, desperately looking for the light he knows should be there. “Do I not have your love?”
“I mean, sure,” you reply softly. Your voice is strained. “I just… I don’t understand how I have yours. You’re the crown prince, you’re perfect. And I’m just… me.”
“You are so much more than that,” Fíli murmurs. “You are everything to me.” He kisses your forehead and stands. Before you can say anything, you’re swept up in his arms. Startled, you instinctively wrap your arms around his neck to avoid falling, but he carries your smaller frame with ease.
You frown, remembering your observation from earlier. “Shouldn’t I be taller than you?”
“Ah. Well.” Fili’s chuckle makes his chest vibrate against your cheek. “That’s all that we thought the stream did. Make you properly sized.”
“Properly sized?” you repeat in disbelief. “You call this properly sized?”
“You complained about it endlessly,” Fíli continues. A playful smile tugs at his lips. “Until you realized how well you fit in my arms.”
You roll your eyes. “You’re very funny.”
“I’m also handsome, charming, brave…”
“Shut up.” You smack his shoulder lightly, but hide a smile as you tuck your head beneath his chin. Maybe you can get used to this.
But as he kicks open the door to his—your—room, and you see the bed with its rumpled covers, you tense.
“Y/N?” Fíli’s breath tickles your neck.
“It’s… just a lot, all at once,” you mumble.
He squeezes you, then lowers you gently to the bed. “I understand,” he murmurs.
“You really don’t, though.” Pent-up frustration simmers within you. “When’s the last time you fell into a stream, woke up, and found out a year had passed and you’re married?”
“Are you upset that we’re married?” Fíli asks, his face falling.
You feel a pang of guilt for snapping at him. This can’t be any easier for him. Running your hand through your tangled hair, you shake your head. “It feels like one moment, I was a girl with a crush, and then I wake up, and suddenly I’m a married woman. I’ve missed out on everything.”
“It’s in there, somewhere,” he whispers, stroking your cheek. You flinch away, your body unsure of how to react to his touch. Hurt flickers across his face, but he pulls back. “Can I fix your braids?” he asks. There’s desperation in his eyes.
Recognizing his need to touch you in whatever way he can, you nod slowly, and turn. The gentle, rhythmic tugging as he combs and re-braids your hair is hypnotic, and you find your eyelids drooping.
“There,” Fíli says, turning you back to him. He smiles sadly. “Beautiful as ever.”
Your heart aches. Whether it aches for him, the dwarf searching for his loving wife in the uncertain girl before him, or yourself, longing to be that loving wife, you do not know.
After a moment of hesitation, you lean in and reward him with a quick kiss on the cheek. His beard is prickly against your lips. “I’m tired,” you whisper when you draw back.
The kiss brings a real smile to his face, however small it may be. Fíli pulls back the covers and you wriggle underneath them. You settle into a dip worn down into the mattress from hundreds of nights before. Fíli slides into place behind you, his chest against your back. You stiffen slightly, but force yourself to relax.
“Is this alright?” His deep, quiet voice vibrates through your body.
You nod. He can have a little cuddle, as a treat. As an apology.
He takes that as a signal to test the limits further. You can tell he’s holding his breath as he drapes his arm over your waist. “Is this alright?”
“It’s cozy,” you mumble sleepily, letting the warmth of his body overwhelm you.
Fíli lets out his breath, pulling you tightly against him and nuzzling his face into your hair.
As you drift off, you do your best to pretend you don’t notice his quiet tears.
You began to stir, finding your face pressed into something warm and firm. As you tried to pull away to look around, you were met with resistance. You made a disgruntled noise.
“Y/N?!” Suddenly, a hand yanked your head backwards. Wide eyes searched your face frantically. You just barely registered who held you before he pulled you back in a crushing embrace. “I thought we’d lost you.”
“Fíli?” you mumbled, your voice muffled by his coat. “Can’t breathe.”
He released you, finally letting you get your bearings. The two of you were alone in a small, stone cell. Torchlight flickered just outside the wrought iron bars, casting a dim, orange light into your cell.
A shadow crossed over the door. “Oh, so she is alive. Here, then.” An apple landed on the ground in front of you, followed by a waterskin. “That’s the most you get until tomorrow. Make it last.” The shadow retreated, footsteps echoing down a long hallway.
Pieces began to slot into place in your mind. You nodded slowly. Mirkwood, elves, imprisonment. “How long have we been in here?”
“A few days at most, given how often they’ve brought food and water. But it’s hard to tell.” Fíli seemed distracted, eyes scanning your body. “How do you feel?”
You frowned and patted yourself up and down. “A bit sore, but I think I’m fine.” You untangled yourself from Fíli and tried to stand on shaky legs, your knees instantly failing beneath you.
Immediately, he jumped up and grabbed your waist from behind to steady you. “Y/N?” His voice was soft. “Y/N, please do not be alarmed when you turn around.”
“What?” You twisted in his grasp and looked up into his concerned face.
Up. You had to tilt your head up to meet his eyes. He was big. You tried to back away but the space was so narrow, you collided with the wall after just a single step. “You’re taller,” you stated, almost robotically. “But you’re a dwarf. You can’t be taller than me. I’m supposed to be the taller one. How did you get taller?”
“I did not get taller,” he corrected you. “You got smaller.”
You just stared at him blankly. Fíli sighed, gently taking hold of your arm and easing you back to the ground. He took the apple from the floor and placed it in your hand. “Eat,” he ordered quietly. “You haven’t had any food in days. It was hard enough to get water into you.”
Instead, you rolled it between your palms absentmindedly. “How long was I out?”
“Just over a week. We were trying to cross a stream, and you fell in.”
“Instead of Bombur,” you interjected.
Fíli raised an eyebrow. “If you say so. Glóin managed to snag you,” he continues, “and when he pulled you out, you were… well, smaller. But you wouldn’t wake up. You even slept through the spiders. I was so afraid that you were gone before I could tell you–” he broke off, his voice thick. He tore his eyes away from yours, a blush rising on his face.
“What?” You reached out and took hold of his chin, turning his face back to you. Yet his eyes still avoided you. You crawled closer, kneeling between his outstretched legs. Your traitorous heart pounded hopefully against your ribs. “Tell me what, Fee?”
He shook his head. “No, no, it’s foolish. I shouldn’t… you wouldn’t…” Finally, he looked back up at you. “I love you?” He phrased it as a question, his blue eyes filled with hesitation. It was strangely endearing, seeing the normally confident prince so bashful. Fíli lifted a cautious hand to your cheek, fingers just barely brushing your skin.
Surprise temporarily robbed you of your voice. Mistaking your silence for rejection, Fíli quickly pulled his hand away. Shame and hurt flashed across his face. “Forgive me,” he blurted out, ducking his head. “I should not burden you with feelings you can never return.” He pulled his legs back in and moved further into the shadowy recesses of the cell.
But you crawled after him, refusing to let him go that easily. “Fíli, why didn’t you say anything?” When he remained silent, you wound your fingers up in one of his braids and tugged, forcing him to turn his head towards you. “Why are you so sure that I can’t feel the same?”
A cautious spark of hope flared to life in his eyes. “Because you’re perfect, you’re beautiful,” he murmured. “You deserve so much more than I can give.”
You smiled, eyes tracing his face. The gold locks that framed it, the sky blue eyes, the flushed cheeks. And those soft, pink lips, parted ever so slightly as he awaited your next words.
But words were the furthest thing from your mind. Refusing to hold back any longer, you grabbed Fíli by the collar, lunging forward to claim his mouth.
His eyes widened, then fluttered shut as his hands grabbed at your waist. Fíli pulled you back into his lap and wrapped his arms around you, reaching up to comb through your tangled hair with his fingers.
A rock clanged against the bars of your cell. “Get a room!” came Kíli’s voice, echoing down the hall.
You broke away with a laugh. “This is a room!”
Kíli’s only response was a disgusted groan as Fíli grabbed at your face for more.
#fanfiction#fíli#kíli#the hobbit#thorin oakenshield#dís#fili x you#fili x reader#modern girl in middle earth#amnesia#falling back in love#everybody lives#soft Fíli#angst and hurt/comfort#it gets angstier before it gets fluffier
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Found all the Scott Pilgrim books at a thrift store for 25 dollars (4.50$ per book) and I’m so happy I finally got them
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New Fic!
I made a new fic! It’ll be another long one
I cannot wait to see what you guys think of this one! It's a lot darker and gritter than Arrangements Can Be Pretty, so make sure to read the tags, where content warnings will be found
Also, don't worry about ACBP falling to the wayside. I'll still be updating it too. I'm quite invested in it.
All At Once (Hoplessly In Love) - Chapter 1, Awakening
#sonadow#sonic the hedgehog au#sonic the hedgehog#shadow the hedgehog#gay#amnesia#phantom ruby!sonic#mysteries#falling back in love#angst
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ꜰᴜᴄᴋ.. ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ɢᴏᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.
#love#poetry#unsaid things#feelings#lettersonyourscreen#my thoughts#true feelings#best friends#unrequited love#falling back in love
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Here’s how I want robin in the next battinson movie:
The very first scene is Bruce and tiny Dick Grayson sitting across from each other at the dining table, staring each other down in silence, both clearly grumpy about it. Alfred is in the background watching them with concern. The silence lasts about 20 seconds before Dick speaks.
“Let me fight crime.” (said with all the petulance of a pouty 10 year old)
Bruce replies immediately. “No.” (this is clearly an ongoing argument)
Immediately cut to the next scene where Dick, wearing the iconic Robin suit, is having the time of his life swinging across the city while Bruce frantically tries to keep up with him while yelling at him to be careful like an anxious mother
#just a whole movie of bruce being bullied by this small child he just adopted#being forced to take on a ‘if you’re going to drink then id rather you do it with me’ style of parenting#just back and forth between falling in love with his new son and going ‘why tf did I adopt a child?!’#batman#robin#battinson#bruce wayne#dick grayson#dc#dc comics#mine
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Hot to the Touch
(Sunset x Thea)
#mlp#sunset shimmer#twilight sparkle#twiset#my art#fanart#the grand galloping 20s#illustration#rarijack is my funny goofy ship your american drama “the fashionista falls for the farmgirl!”#but twiset is my pull at your heartstrings drama romance shit#at least for this au#what if thea was the only one who could calm sunset's rage#what if sunset knows she should hate thea for “replacing” her for being the witch she was supposed to be but she can't bring herself to#what if thea was the guiding star who saves sunset's soul and brought laughter and peace and love back into her jaded tired life#what if they loved each other more than they ever thought they could but it wasn't meant to last. sunset must leave and thea must stay.#what if i ran off a bridge
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Recently, I made a promise to myself that the next time I got a boyfriend, I’d be on the lookout for red flags. And if I saw any, I would do the healthy thing and I would murder him.
The Suicide Squad (2021) dir. James Gunn
#the suicide squad#dc#dcedit#harley quinn#dcmultiverse#userdiana#byaurore#margot robbie#usersugar#tuserrachel#userallisyn#nessa007#tuserpris#usereena#userelio#tuserhan#tuserpolly#userbecca#useriselin#userisaiah#usersavana#tusertha#usersnat#usersaoirse#usermandie#usermorgan#filmedit#userrlaura#userkam#i don't care about the dc universe.... i just need harley back (i also want her to fall in love with ivy :/)
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there's something deeply gutting about being a writer right now. watching studio execs brag about starving people like you out of your very house just to not pay you anything above the pennies you currently make. watching some people cheer over AO3 being targeted for a DDOS attack. the complete lack of profitability of writing commissions or writing in general in transformative spaces, especially in contrast to fanart. the pivot of so many social media platforms to be video and image based near-exclusively.
I don't know. it just makes me sad to know that the hobby that kept me alive while growing up homeschooled with dial-up internet and local antenna TV... is only ever gonna be a side job with minimal engagement. I know this site is good about supporting libraries and the concept of books but, do me a favor? Reach out to a writer friend you know. Leave a comment on your last five read stories on your favorite website.
Tell us you care.
#maybe that's why I've been so stalled on my novel#I keep trying to convince myself there's a POINT to it#but I look at how BRUTAL the publishing industry is and how I can't even consistently break ten reblogs on writing I post here#and I just. it hurts. and I have other hobbies I could fall back on!!! I could do art and cosplay and cater to the immediate engagement!!#but writing is my LOVE and my PASSION and I just wish. I wish the current climate CARED about us#TALKED to us the way we talk to cosplayers and artists and the chocolate guy#UGH. Wednesday blues hitting me NASTY today
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maybe reflecting on the past doesn't hurt as bad as you thought
closeup + version without blur
#anyone else emotionally ruined after those 2 episodes ?#simon petrikov#betty grof#adventure time#fionna and cake#fionna and cake spoilers#he spent so long trying to not think of their memories together because he thought itd just bring back that heartache#but i think recalling those memories just made him fall in love all over again
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DpxDc AU: Tim as a child was never given a lot of information regarding the scribbling messy handwriting that appeared over night all over his arms- naturally he came to his own conclusions.
Tim Drake was home entirely alone at 9 years old and was about to go out for the night to test his brand new long exposure camera lens when he sees the writing on his arm. It’s not English, like he assumed it was at first, but it was using the alphabet to represent… Tim isn’t bad at math but this formula is complex for his little genius brain.
Looking at his camera, he decides he can spare a moment to look it up, solve it, and get back out into old town Gotham in time for Batman and Robin’s final patrol lap. He does just that, finding the problem to relate to some aerospace engineering and then quickly deduces what laws and theorems need to be applied. He finds a pen, writes down his findings in much neater handwriting onto his arm, and goes out. It’s barely a remarkable night at all. He gets a much more memorable photo of Robin roundhouse kicking a hench person.
Things just continued on that way. Tim would find some complex math, physics or chemistry prompt on his arm (surrounded by various question marks or notes or sad faces)- he’d answer it as best he could and move on with his life. Perhaps his parents were manifesting these pop quizzes? Perhaps his subconscious felt guilty about abandoning his studies for more Bat related pursuits? Tim really didn’t care to think much about it once he became Robin- there was too much on his plate and too many peoples problems for him to fix.
Notably, however, after the attack at the Tower, the pop quiz appeared and Tim wrote back that he wouldn’t be able to find an answer to this one. It was the only time Tim questioned the markings appearance and it was because the next thing that appeared was “Hope you feel better soon.”
… his parents wouldn’t include that on a pop quiz. Cursed then. Tim decided it must be a curse, whatever, he’d deal with the implications later in life.
Tim then has the worst year of his life, hes 15, no longer Robin and the questions from his curse are getting less math oriented and more… philosophical. A lot of mentions of death that, in hindsight helped him actually grieve, and a lot of theories about dark matter and souls. Tim answers back as best he can but he’s drained and his answers aren’t very good in his opinion. He gets minimal feedback.
It all comes to a point that he’s at a family dinner, Bruce is at the head of the table, Jason has promised just to stay for dessert, Damian hasn’t thrown a single insult his way and Steph was laughing at him- when a new theoretical model appears on his arm.
“You’re just as bad as Bruce, Timberly. Hiding a soulmate from all of us, how fucking typical.” Jason points out, while watching Tim scribble back some math with a question mark onto his arm.
“A what? No, this is just a curse. I get pop quizzes every now and then.” Tim bats away Steph who rapidly approaches and began to analyze his arm (the rest of the family isn’t far behind).
“Drake. Explain how you came to this conclusion.” Damian seems more curious than anything, if his lack of insults was anything to go off of.
“Since I was young I’ve had at least weekly math check ins, I never had a parent or anyone else around so I assumed my parents had me cursed to ensure I stayed on top of my studies. Sometimes it’s physics or chemistry, for a while there it was a ton of philosophy and behavioral psychology.” He shrugs his shoulders.
“Master Tim, I believe the lack of adults in your life has led you towards a false conclusion. That is most certainly a soulmate mark. The individual to whom you are responding is undoubtedly your other half.” Alfred attempts to calm the room before explaining to Tim. Tim isnt sure if he believes the butler, though Alfred only very rarely lied, so he grabs the pen once more. He writes his first question back: “Who am I to you?”
The room waits in anticipation and within moments a brand new line appears on Tim’s arm and he is vindicated: “We do math together???”
——
The reason Danny is failing English is because his built in homework helper sucks ass at metaphors and has apparently never read any classic literature. The tutor on his arm is great at puzzles and math tho.
Danny gets a reply back one night that he wasn’t expecting (Who am I to you?) and he mentions it to Jazz. Who goes insane that Danny didn’t even question it and just went with “meh, probably haunted” as his explanation for the phenomenon for all these years.
Apparently, if Jazz was right, he had a soulmate who was uh, super fucking smart. That was an overwhelming thought.
The next day Danny is in crisis mode and writes back “Wait, WHAT AM I TO YOU??? Can I help on your homework??”
Danny gets vindicated when the writing on his arm presents a shit ton of dates and information for an unsolved Gotham cold case. See, Haunted.
———
Eventually between Danny becoming the top candidate for astrophysics at Wayne Enterprises and Tim Drake being outed as having contributed tips to the GCPD that solved cold cases- they meet and realize just how dumb they’ve been.
#dcxdp#dpxdc#dc x dp#dp x dc#danny phantom#dc crossover#dp crossover#long post#braindead ship#brain dead#deadtired ship#tim x danny#soulmate au#soulmate marks#I feel like I really cooked something here#two super smart total dumbasses#in my head then then fall in love and try to pretend that they’ve known this whole time lmao#Tim looks at college level physics questions on his arms as a kid and is like ‘must be a pop quiz’ and then solves them#danny just thinks it looks neat at first but then his haunted arm replies back with actual answers and explanations???#your honor these two meet in person realize that they are literally soulmates admit no fault and carry on like they’ve always been in love#tim is naturally paranoid and Danny is naturally curious so tim always answers and Danny always asks
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The defintion of hell is knowing a show is incredibly well-received in its first season, but if people don’t become machines churning out tweets, content, and rewatching 24/7, there’s no likelihood it’ll get a chance to tell its whole story. This shit is madness. Shows in different genres shouldn’t have to pit-battle for dominance. First seasons are MEANT to be baselines establishing worlds and characters, not complete storylines. The idea that this golden age of television has turned into “get it done in one or get out” is revolting.
#the sandman#paper girls#some of the hot takes on Twitter are breaking me#‘why don’t we know the whole story? it’s bad writing if you don’t have a complete story in the first season’ girl WHAT since WHEN#how many excellent shows were weak as fuck in S1?? and here we’re getting shows with incredible first seasons fighting for their lives#like fuckin Christ dude the idea of long form storytelling is allowing your story time and space to spread out#otherwise we would only make movies#i am so sick of this edge of my seat fear that any new show I fall in love with will get axed because the higher powers don’t care about art#this has to be a bubble right? this has to pop at some point and go back to shows valued on what they are#and don’t even get me started on creators having to beg for good reviews to balance out review-bombing from shitheads#if every one star review is clearly bigoted from the comments? why is anyone taking them into account??#why is there no way to manage this shit aside from creators being like ‘please help us”’
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#throw your head back and fall in love#wei wuxian#wei ying#lan wangji#lan zhan#wangxian#mo dao#mdzs#grandmaster of demonic cultivation
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Swapping tips on how to be a bestie in the bath.
#poorly drawn mdzs#mdzs#wei wuxian#dungeon meshi#marcille donato#It is going to take a long time for pd-mdzs to get to the bathtub scene. At least we can have another gay bathtub scene sooner.#I know everyone is hyping this up at the yuri episode but guys it does not even start nor stop at the bathtub scene.#Hey old danmeshi fans; you guys remember when the animated trailer came out in 2019 and we lost our minds?#Now we are on the cusp of getting a *second* animation of the farcille cuddle moment. It feels unreal.#I have missed drawing wwx so much by the way. This was so healing.#This week is for dungeon meshi and next week is for raffles. Wei Ying... I miss thee.#Marcille and wwx have more in common than just this but that's spoilers B*)#I'll be back Thursday with more Dungeon Meshi art. Wouldn't miss this one for the world.#DUNGEON MESHI SPOILERS: now that the anime has caught up to the scene…yeah this handshake was also about necromacy#and bringing back someone loved…wrong. It is also about being a prodigy who falls from grace#and they both opt to study something that is deemed ‘evil’ because society said it was. They believe their method can be used to help!#not to mention the toxic self-reliance qualities. And the dark outfit transformation moment. They should have brunch together.
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While we're on the topic of De-aging AU's I wanna talk about Jason and Damian if Jason was 14 again real quick.
Do you guys think that Damian looks at this version of Jason, so different from the version he knows, nothing like the person he was told Jason was, and feels uncomfortably seen?
Damian was always told that Jason died because he was reckless, because he disobeyed orders, he was fired as Robin and he got himself killed. A cautionary tale, not a threat to his position. He dismisses Jason because Bruce does, because Dick does, because sometimes even Babs and Alfred do.
That's not the kid that he's looking at now. This Jason is happy, and smart, and full of love that has not yet soured into grief. He hangs on Bruce's every word, trains until his hands bleed and his body gives out to perfect the moves Bruce teaches him. He looks at Bruce with stars in his eyes and he calls him dad.
And Damian can't help but think, that this is the perfect Robin. The perfect son. And if Jason - sweet, loving, strong, Jason - can be fired, can die and have his room locked away and his pictures torn down, can have his last memory as Robin be as A Good Soldier, how could the rest of them ever compete? What could Damian do to stand a chance?
Jason will never grow out of the shadow of Robin, like the rest of them did. As long as Bruce, and Dick, and Babs, and Alfred look at him and see a dead kid who came back wrong, he will never get to be anything else. He will not get to be looked at through who he is now without the shadow of a dead boy looming over him.
And the worst part? Jason is exactly the same person he was back then. Bitter, sure, angry, justifiably, but he is still the boy with too much love in his heart and righteous fury festering in his gut. He is exactly the same boy who threw himself in front of an explosion to save his mother.
(The lines between the mother that betrayed him and the father that disgraced him are so very blurred. Fire or blade or crowbars or fists it does not matter. It ends the same way it always does because Jason Todd always dies, in every universe, in every timeline, Jason dies and crawls out only to be killed again and again and again.)
#dc#jason todd#damian wayne#de aging#I personally am obsessed with the headcanon that they met in the league which lends it's own sense of tragedy#but this is a more canon take on it#Bruce Wayne critical#do you guys think he watched Jason fall back into old routines and is so unbelievably angry because none of it matters#do you think he listens to Jason talk about homework and his grades and his clubs and the colleges he wants to go to#and all he can think of is how unfair it is#that Jason never gets it. That everything about who he was got distorted and exaggerated and there was nothing left of this boy#that the love and blood and late nights never mean anything because this is a ghost walking the halls disproving all the legends#what is the prodigal son to do when he comes home but the locks have changed
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Quacked up
Danny never thought that Desiree was serious on her threats, or at least the threats that had to do with "turning him into a duck and abandoning him in another dimension."
But it seems that even ghost genies had their limits, because the third time he "ruined her plans," she made good on her threat. Danny wasn't worried about Amity, Team Phantom could take care of that just fine.
He was more concerned about his webbed feet and duckbill. Plus the fact that he showed up in the middle of a warehouse occupied by mobsters, although the supposed mobsters were more involved in trying to catch him (were his ears wrong or had he heard an "aww"?) than killing him. One of them even named him "Duck Hood."
Jason didn't know how to feel watching all his employees chase a duck. It was a weird duck, with glowing green eyes (was it possible for a duck to dive into the pits??), and he was sure he saw it float by at some point, but at least his "lair" was a little more lively.
He wondered if he should give it to Damian or keep it.
#dpxdc#Duck Danny#Desiree was mad at him#her obsession is to fulfill wishes#she can't stop just because he wants to#and Danny frustrated even the littlest wish#So she transformed him into a Duck and left him into the DC dimension#dp x dc#dc x dp#Hood goons just saw a duck walking into their organization and fall in love with the animal#They like Duck Hood#and want to adopt him#Danny doesn't#he want to come back to his universe#at least most of his powers work#Jason wonders if it's possible that a pit duck exists#maybe he should keep it just to be sure
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2013: *fall out boy comes back*
monkey paw curls and my chemical romance disbands, leaving millions devastated
2023: *fall out boy comes back, again*
monkey paw flips off brendon urie, and frees ryan ross from having to see him continue to butcher his old band
#ryan ross#mcr#my chemical romance#this time they used their band killing powers for good!#also the monkey paw did that all while doing some sickass skateboard tricks I SAW it#panic at the disco#panic! at the disco#fall out boy#monkey paw and fall out boy kill the shambling corpse of panic at the disco and millions cheer!#yes guys i know paramore and mcr are back too but its not a pattern of band killing trust me i love them both more than fob but PATTERN lol
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